For us, in the United Church of Christ, this election week certainly has been bittersweet. Perhaps, like myself, on election day morning, you felt just a bit of pride at offering to the nation one of our own as a presidential candidate, and then perhaps you even felt a leap of joy inside as he was elected to this high office! Perhaps you also, like me, were deeply pained as the week wore on and Proposition 8 was declared to have passed. Anger. Joy. Sadness. Hope. All these and more painted the picture for us UCC’ers in this particular election week.
On the day after the election, I was sitting at home grieving over the loss of equality with the passage of Proposition 8, and wondering aloud if I would continue signing marriage licenses for some now that I am forbidden to sign for all. In the midst of my sadness, anger, and frustration, the phone rang. It was our president…Loring…not the other one. He told me that he was driving along in his car, and was having a conversation with God. At first, I misheard, and thought he said he was having a conversation with John, and I immediately wondered what my husband was doing in a car with the church president. But it was God that Loring was talking with. And apparently God was talking back, or as we say in the UCC…God was and is still speaking! This time to Loring. As an aside, Barbie, Loring’s wife, later wondered what God’s voice sounded like. Loring responded that it sounded a little like Barbie…mixed with a little of Barbie’s father… Nice to know that when God speaks, it is in an easily-recognizable voice!
What God specifically said to Loring is Loring’s story to tell, although I will tease you with the tickler that God’s conversation with Loring had something to do with our continuing role as a beacon of God’s radically inclusive love. Our story as a congregation on this particular morning is a story in which covenant extends itself horizontally—side to side, hand to hand, embrace to embrace—to include all 200+ people who now call this church their spiritual home. Today we tell a story in which our covenant relationships, human to human, become most tangible. Generally speaking, scriptures about this part of covenant abound…biblical authors write about justice and equality, about caring for the poor and ill, about compassion and love for self and neighbor. While some of this may sound hollow to those of us who are still stinging from the election, today our congregation’s story of side to side covenants is a story that is enhanced by the simple and hopeful fact that God and our church president were enjoying a friendly chat on the freeway the day after this historic—and somewhat schizoid election. God IS still speaking… thankfully!
What might God be saying to us about our inter-relationships here at Redlands UCC? Today’s scripture passages offer several possibilities:
- Stay together; as the people of God presented themselves before God together, so we are a covenant community of ALL the people
- Honor God and serve God with faithfulness and sincerity; that means be honest in prayer, and seek to live a life of integrity
- Stand up and be counted; Joshua prophetically announced to those who were tempted to follow other more entertaining gods and goddesses… “As for me and my family, we will serve God.”
- Seek wisdom; wisdom is to be found all around us…look…pay attention…follow her, says the author of the Wisdom of Solomon
- Do not rely on rituals and services to save you; God hates, despises, rote meaningless ritual
- Get out of the way of justice; the prophet Amos declares, “LET justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream…” Oh, what a sermon impatiently germinates inside me today on this passage!
- And then we move to Jesus…who says through a story of 10 wedding participants… Be ready; Be prepared; Your time will come.
However, as intensely and accurately as these scriptures describe and form our human to human ministry here, I suggest that after a 22-month political campaign season, the last thing we all need today is more intensity! Today, friends, sisters, brothers in the faith, today, our God IS still speaking…still speaking about that horizontal covenant relationship, those human to human ways of strengthening covenant community. Today, God is still speaking and today God has a story to tell.
This is a story that paints a vivid and engaging picture of what it means for each of us to take our place in this covenant community. Hear now with me Martin Bell’s story of “The Porcupine Whose Name Didn’t Matter.”
“Joggi stood before the mystery of his own life much as any other porcupine might have. That is to say, he was exceedingly cautious in the face of it. I do not mean to imply that it was difficult for Joggi to acknowledge the mystery. On the contrary! He had no trouble whatsoever recognizing the ebb and flow of his own limitations and the infinite variety of possibility within his universe. Joggi knew about the ongoing beat of life. The daily. The humdrum. Joggi knew about the ongoing beat of life. It throbbed somewhere deep within him. Beneath the prickly spines. In the center of his tiny body. A thumping. Steady. Insistent. Unrelenting. The mystery.
“Totally aware, more lucid perhaps than he desired to be, Joggi lived and loved, laughed and cried—tentatively. One might say that anger, frustration and tenderness had been so delicately woven into the fabric of his person as to make difficult our perceiving any of them.
“Joggi was cautious in the face of the mystery. So cautious, in fact, that almost nobody knew his name. Most of the animals in the forest had seen the near-sighted porcupine moving slowly about, poking his pointed black nose into the vegetation, bristling and puffing, squinting and stumbling. Few had spoken to him. Now and then someone would say hello, and ask after his health—an attempt to strike up a conversation of sorts. This never really led to anything, however, because Joggi would not—no, that isn’t fair—Joggi could not risk such a head-on collision.
Joggi’s decisional hesitancy usually expressed itself this way. When asked what his name was, he would answer, ‘It doesn’t matter! It doesn’t matter what my name is! Can’t you see? What difference does it make? I won’t tell you what my name is, because it doesn’t matter!’
“That would be the reply. And, more often than not, that would be the end of the conversation. Joggi could not embrace another, he would not tell anyone his name, and the result was almost always the same: the other animals avoided him.
“One significant exception to this was Gamiel, the raccoon. Gamiel did not mind Joggi-s reticence at all. It did not bother him when the prickly little porcupine was silent for hours at a time, and he had never even thought to ask about Joggi’s name.
“Gamiel could remember very little before the accident, and much of what had happened since was blurred somewhere in the recesses of his brain, all but lost to memory.
“Raccoons are generally alert and resourceful creatures with keen perceptions and excellent memories. But all of this had changed for Gamiel since the accident. Ironically, he wasn’t even certain why. All he remembered was a flash of light, and then something hard had ripped into the side of his head. His whole body had convulsed with the pain; white hot, wet, thrashing, God-when-will-it-stop pain that had pitched him bleeding from the tree into the underbrush and had driven him forward without his left side pulling any weight at all, by instinct only; screaming pain that shrieked behind his eyes the one and only word of hope he knew, and the, as suddenly as it had come, was gone.
“If only Gamiel had looked at himself in the quiet waters of the forest pond, he would have recognized why no one would come near him anymore. Everything had changed. He did not even look like a raccoon. The whole left side of his head was missing, he had no fur at all around his eyes where once the elegant mask had been, and he could barely pull himself along with his right front leg. Gamiel had only to look at himself in the forest pond to realize why everyone hurried past when he called out to them.
“But the crippled raccoon never again would look at his reflection in the quiet waters. Not because he wasn’t willing to see his disfigured image, but rather because he wasn’t able to see anything at all. Ever since the accident, Gamiel had been totally blind.
“Joggi found Gamiel about two days after the pain had stopped, and approximately three hours after the raccoon had given up all hope.
“A sound close by. Gamiel trembled.
‘Is someone there?’ he whispered.
“At first Joggi didn’t say anything. He looked at Gamiel and noted that his left side was paralyzed. Then, after a moment, he realized that the animal was blind. The nearsighted porcupine moved closer.
‘You’re a raccoon,’ he said out loud.
‘Oh, yes, indeed I am!’ Gamiel stuttered. ‘Only I think something awful has happened to me. I cannot see anything at all, and I can barely move. Please, tell me what has happened to me! Am I going to die? Why won’t anyone stop when I cry out? Why can’t I see? What has happened? Please . . . I’m afraid . . .’ And in Gamiel’s searching, empty, sightless eyes tears began to form.
“Joggi sniffed. In the center of his body the beat of life. Faster now. Answer him. Don’t just stand there with your spines bristling and your heart pounding. Answer him!
“Joggi spoke with a steady and quiet voice.
‘I believe you have been shot. I cannot be certain, of course, but that is my opinion. Are you in a great deal of pain?’
‘No. At first there was pain. But I can’t feel anything now. In fact, my whole left side is numb. No. No more pain. Just, well . . . nothing.’ Gamiel’s eyes opened and closed aimlessly.
“Joggi was silent. His tiny body shivering; breathing labored, short difficult breaths. What now? An extended period of time.
“Gamiel spoke in a hoarse voice, ‘Are you still there?’
“Joggi’s heart beat faster. ‘Yes, I’m here. I was just wondering what to do now.’
‘Oh, you don’t have to do anything! Honestly, I mean that! You don’t have to do anything at all. Just stay with me for a little while. Just be there. Just don’t go away. Please. I’m afraid! You won’t go away, will you?’
“Joggi swallowed hard. ‘No,’ he said deliberately and with as much conviction as he could muster, ‘no, I won’t go away.’
‘Thank you,’ Gamiel said quietly. And then the wounded raccoon fell asleep.
“Joggi stood beside Gamiel all that day. Then when evening came, a cool breeze made his spines whistle slightly. The sound woke the raccoon.
‘Are you still there?’
‘Yes. I told you I wouldn’t go away.’
‘I’m hungry.’
‘I thought you probably would be,’ Joggi replied. ‘Can you move at all?’
Gamiel stretched his right leg forward and pulled himself along the ground.
‘Good for you!’ said Joggi. ‘That will do nicely. I can bring you food, but you will need to maneuver for yourself in order to get water. I believe you have enough strength to reach the pond; it isn’t very far, and I can guide you directly to it. Come on. Let’s see how it goes.’
“That was how it began. An unusual partnership, perhaps. Certainly the rest of the animals in the forest were surprised to see the pair of them moving slowly about, managing to live from one day to the next without really doing much of anything. Occasionally Joggi would describe something for Gamiel, or answer a question, or direct the crippled raccoon toward a tasty morsel of food. Gamiel, for his part, chattered happily, basked in the sun, and generally enjoyed the company of his new friend.
“They made a home for one another, Joggi and Gamiel. Not a regular home exactly; not a place. More like a shelter from the excessive pain that each of them had known. A coming together of two lonely and frightened creatures. A bond of trust that asked no questions, expected nothing at all except the merciful being together that made waking up tomorrow possible. Gamiel didn’t mind when Joggi was silent for hours at a time. He could sense the beat. Thumping, ongoing, steady. There. It was enough.
Joggi was with Gamiel for one full year before the injured raccoon finally died. It was a quiet event, almost a surprise but that Joggi had been expecting it for so long. Gamiel’s strength just finally gave out and the mystery of life enveloped him completely.
‘You know, I’ve been expecting this for quite some time now,’ Joggi said to the raccoon who lay there on the ground, no longer able to hear him. ‘I am surprised that you managed to stay alive as long as you did. I knew the day that I found you it couldn’t last. Not for long. You’d been hurt too badly. I never expected you to live this long. And yet . . . well, I hoped that it might have been a little longer. Do you know what I mean? You see, I never knew anybody very well before. Not that we ever talked much, or anything like that. But I felt like I knew you anyway. Even without talking. I have a really hard time talking to anybody, or getting to know anybody. And nobody ever wants to get very close to me because of all these spines that I have sticking out of me. I don’t suppose you ever knew that I had spines sticking out all over me, did you? They’re sort of like needles and they’re sharp. I guess they scare everybody a bit. I hope you don’t mind my talking so much. I really don’t know why I’m talking to you now. I suppose it’s just that I had a little more to tell you before you died; I have been wanting to say this for almost a year and never quite found the right time to do it. It’s too late now, I realized, but I’ve been wanting to tell you that it has been an honor to meet you, and that you are indeed a very handsome raccoon, and that I would like to consider you my friend.’
“The porcupine cleared his throat. A tear dropped onto his nose. In the center of his body the ongoing beat of life. Beneath the prickly spines. Wildly thumping. Tell him! Don’t just stand there with your spines bristling and your heart pounding. Tell him!
‘Oh, and by the way, I’d like to tell you what my name is. It’s a funny name, I suppose. But I’d like you to know what it is.’
A moment’s hesitation and then, ‘It’s Joggi.’
“Without another word, the tiny porcupine turned away from Gamiel’s lifeless form and began to cry.
“What Joggi did not see, but what he felt in every fiber of his being, was the spirit of life itself, God the Creator, and Joggi knew that he would never be the same again.”
The truth as I see it today, is that some in our covenant community feel run over, beaten down, diminished by the passage of proposition 8. And I confess to being among them. To have 53% of the voting population say that my gay son, along with some of the dearest members of this congregation are undeserving of equality, after we have all stood with these couples in their joyful marriage ceremonies, brings to me a pain deeper than words can express or time erase. The truth as I see it today, is that some in our covenant community are helpers who are already reaching out to effect healing…through email and phone calls, through meetings that turn into sharing and listening sessions, with verbal and non-verbal ways of caring. The truth as I see it today, is that this present situation will someday reverse itself, and those who are now hurting will become the healers, and today’s healers will be in need of wound care. The truth as I see it today, is that living together in covenant community means that within each of us there throbs the ongoing beat of life…somewhere deep within…beneath the prickly spines…in the center of your body and mine…a thumping. Steady. Insistent. Unrelenting. The mystery. It catches in our collective throat, and invites us to create a shelter…a coming together…a covenant…a bond of trust that expects nothing at all except the merciful being together that makes waking up tomorrow possible...a covenant together to speak words of justice, and do deeds of kindness, and to always, always, continue in this covenant community together…walking humbly with our God.
